


People Will Say

by temptresslove



Series: Power Couple [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, But but but, But this, F/M, Gray Harry, M/M, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, OF COURSE WE ALWAYS GO BACK TO OUR POLITICAL TOM AND HARRY ROOTS, Political Harry, Politics, Pureblood Harry, but that, harry and tom obviously wanting to be together BUT, political tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23182006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temptresslove/pseuds/temptresslove
Summary: As Harry looks at Tom, the alpha suddenly turns his head and meets Harry’s eyes. Harry is surprised, but he doesn’t look away. Instead he smirks, flips his hair, and turns around to walk away as if Tom was not, in any way at all, interesting enough for him.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: Power Couple [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264598
Comments: 59
Kudos: 1589
Collections: Favorite Tom/Harry





	People Will Say

** _Present_ **

The omega was dressed in green and silver, a subtle indication of his which political candidate he really supported.

Hermione was not stupid, and she knew from her days in Beauxbatons, that the Potter heir was not stupid as well. Underneath that pretty face, was a calculating and cold opportunist who didn’t mind stepping on anyone as long as he was on top.

And although, everyone saw him as just a pretty little thing, Hermione knew better.

Hermione would not have known too if she hadn’t accidentally seen the omega folding his Potions essay paper away, Hermione getting a glimpse of a perfect score.

Harry had smirked then, uncharacteristically smug, and left.

After that encounter, Hermione had been curious as to why Harry never made it into the honor rolls if he was smart. Getting a perfect score on a Potions essay was no joke. Hermione had never gotten one before—although maybe that was because their professor was racist against her.

As it turned out, after Hermione’s careful observation, Harry rather liked looking as though he did not know anything. There was always an amused look in his eye as he would almost write the wrong answers deliberately in his exams. If there was one thing the Potter heir thrived on, it was people underestimating him for his pretty face.

It’s been years since they graduated. Hermione has never forgotten Harry. She doubted anyone could.

Here they were now—Harry, performing his socialite duties and Hermione… well, Hermione working hard at her ministry job especially now that the elections were coming up.

The elections were all England could talk about for three months, and news outlets had been dying to know which of the runners the omega was voting for, since his Potter name was one of the most influential names out there. 

The omega had been unusually coy and would completely steer the topic into a different direction such as who he was wearing or which alpha he was dating right now. Or how, uncharacteristically, he was _not_ dating any alphas at the moment as he looked right at the camera in one his trademark playful smiles.

* * *

** _Five Years Ago_ **

Tom Riddle smiles at Luna Lovegood and the omega heiress smiles back—just as gullible as he remembered her from their days at Hogwarts. Luna was pretty, but what Tom really wanted was the influence of the Lovegoods.

Luna was… hard to talk to. Her interests were rather… _unique_ but it did help that Tom was knowledgeable of many things. It was tiring to converse with her and even more so when he had five more people to deal with.

This was his first ministry ball in two years since he graduated and although it did introduce Tom to some major players in the political scene, Tom had no patience to deal with the simpletons that were trying to engage him in what they thought were _higher_ conversation.

“Have you seen _him_ yet?” He heard one of his colleagues ask a friend.

It was the question everyone asked tonight. Where was _he_? The only reason why there was an unplanned ministry ball happening at all.

The ball, totally unplanned, was put together in haste two days after Sirius Black had casually announced that the famed Potter heir was finally returning to London after graduating from Beauxbatons. 

The boy had been hidden from the public eye since his parents died, and Sirius, the man who formally adopted him into his fold, was secretive and protective. He thought it best to raise the boy away from the British magic community. 

At least, that’s what the rumors said. 

But Tom knew better. 

It was all to keep the boy away from the manipulations of Albus Dumbledore. 

As the only heir to the Potter family, the boy was one of the richest wizards in the whole of Britain. That is, when he was finally of age to claim his inheritance. More than that, he would inherit one of the most influential seats in Wizengamot making him a very powerful political figure if he chose to exercise his pureblood right.

Sirius knew this was something Dumbledore would exploit as he had with the former Potter heir and his muggleborn wife. Sirius Black was having no more of it, it seemed. He took the boy into his care and intentionally snubbed Hogwarts as a proper school for the boy.

He would make the most powerful ally, and everyone in the ball present knew it. Everyone was in perfect attendance. The alphas dressed in their most expensive robes hoping to catch the eye and fortune of the Potter heir. 

No one could talk about anything or anyone else.

But the boy was still nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it had all been a farce. Sirius Black, although somewhat stable, was also tinged with the infamous Black insanity. Perhaps the Black patriarch just said the boy would come home to spite Dumbledore.

Tom looked across the room where Dumbledore was wearing the most atrocious yellow robes Tom had ever seen in his life. Who in their right mind would wear robes with gingerbread men on them? It wasn’t even Christmas. 

The man was surprisingly only talking to Neville Longbottom, the closest thing he could have compared to a Potter heir. His allies were scattered across the room, strategically placed to intercept the boy if he actually appeared.

Tom smirked. His own men were scattered as well, in strict orders to bring him the boy at once if they even catch a glimpse of him.

“Don’t you think so, Tom?” Tom looked at the woman who was talking to him, forgetting what exactly they were talking about. She was one of the most boring people Tom had met, but she was the wife of some influential political figure and he needed her friendship.

“Of course, Astoria, you are always so insightful of these things.” Evidently, this was the right thing to say because the witch turned bright red. Luna giggled at his side.

Right on cue, the Bellatrix Black signaled to him across the room. “Ah, excuse me, but my colleague is calling me. I look forward to these little talks of ours.” He flashed her one of his charming smiles and kissed her hand. That seemed to make her completely speechless. “I’ll see you later, darling.” He says to Luna. Luna nods turning to continue her conversions with the group that gathered around them.

“He’s here,” Bellatrix says casually as Tom approached her.

“Who’s he with?” Tom asks looking at where Bella was inclining her head.

“The Weasley girl.”

Tom searches the crowd for the redhead. And then he sees him. The Potter heir. The omega. A sight in red, hair black as midnight, face sweet as day, almost floating as he laughed gently at what Ginny was saying. He had a beautiful tan and an even more beautiful face. He was Lily Potter’s son, no doubt.

“Rather plain, isn’t he?” Bella asks in quiet jealousy. 

Tom keeps his face blank. He doesn’t answer.

* * *

Harry stared, rather shamelessly, as he caught sight of Tom Riddle. He was dressed in emerald green, a look that Harry was sure only he could pull off. And by the way the man looked as he walked said he knew the fact very well.

The omega suddenly wished he had worn his favorite deep green gown that showed off his eyes, because if anything, he also looked good in the color.

And Harry was very competitive.

“That’s Tom Riddle,” Ginny had whispered slyly on his ear.

“Who?” Harry asked pretending to not know what she was talking about.

“The alpha you’ve been staring at for thirty minutes now,” Ginny smirks. “You’re not the first omega to be completely smitten, you know.”

Smitten... smitten wasn’t even the word for it. Something ached in Harry’s chest.

“What’s the word on him?”

“Oh, Harry, you have _no idea_ ,” Ginny grins. “He’s a genius and even purebloods like him. Well, more than like him really... his old Slytherin schoolmates _worship_ him.”

Fuck, Harry thought. All that on top of being incredibly attractive? Jesus Christ. He should probably to try to make his move now, it was good thing Harry was single now, and alphas like that won’t be single for lo—

“ _And_ he’s got a girlfriend.” Ginny finally finishes triumphantly.

“A girlfriend?” Harry stops.

“Yes, an _omega_ girlfriend and not just any omega girlfriend,” Ginny days conspiratorially. “But the Lovegood heiress. Luna.”

Luna? Luna Lovegood? Harry’s heart fell. Luna was as good as they come, selfless and altruistic and utterly _giving_. Harry was none of those.

_That_ was Tom’s type?

Those were the worst types. Because they were _wife_ material. 

Harry would bet that Luna also knew how to cook, as if being kind wasn’t enough to attract someone like Tom Riddle.

As Harry looks at Tom, the alpha suddenly turns his head and meets Harry’s eyes. Harry is surprised, but he doesn’t look away. Instead he smirks, flips his hair, and turns around to walk away as if Tom was not, in any way at all, interesting enough for him.

* * *

Harry finds Lucius, an attractive Malfoy heir who was surrounded by other rich heirs, and greets him. They’ve long been childhood friends and Harry knew Lucius always had a crush on him. He flirts shamelessly with the man, a few touches here and there, and giggles prettily about anything the alpha said. 

Lucius introduces him to every one of his friends and Harry bats his eyelashes at all of them, extending his hand for them to kiss. It wasn’t an English custom but acting French singled him out. He was the new omega, exotic and pretty with elegant Parisian habits.

There wasn’t any alpha Harry has failed to attract yet.

The laughter of the alphas are making everyone in the ball look at their direction. Harry makes sure he is well in the center of it, a spectacle of sensual red, against alphas dressed in black robes.

At the corner of his eye, he looks at Tom, checking to see if he was looking at Harry. He wasn’t. He was fully engrossed with his omega girlfriend, talking to the Greengrasses as his arm is relaxed around Luna’s waist.

Harry takes a deep breath and smiles prettily at Lestrange. “All this laughter makes me feel rather _hot_.” The Lestrange heir hurries to get him a drink while Rockwood fans him.

“Mmm,” Harry says to Lestrange as he hands Harry his drink. “I say, who is that pretty omega over there?” He asks innocently.

“Oh Luna?"

“She seems rather... interesting,” Harry says. “I do not know any other omegas here at the ball, I do want to be her friend.”

* * *

Tom smirks as he walks away from Luna, feeling particularly smug about evading the Potter heir.

Did the omega think he did not know he was playing with Tom? Trying to capture his attention while enslaving other alphas’?

Harry was making a move to be introduced to their circle. Rockwood and Potter are looking in their direction. 

Tom makes a move to leave.

* * *

Hermione knows Harry is toying with her senior, Tom Riddle. But Hermione had the feeling that Tom knew exactly what Harry was doing and was responding rather brilliantly. It was like a dance between them. No one was leading and yet they were in perfect synchrony.

But no matter how they tease… they are moving slowly now toward each other. The cat and mouse game is coming to an end. 

* * *

They finally meet at the center of the ballroom. 

A contrast of red and green. Harry’s parents were Gryffindors and knew if he studied in Hogwarts, he would be one too. Tom was a pure Slytherin to the core, eyes focused and teasing. They stop to look at each other, the lion versus the snake, omega versus alpha, pureblood versus mudblood—natural enemies, natural predators.

It was almost meant to be.

“Mr. Potter,” Tom purrs in greeting, eyes bright and wide with pleasure.

“Mr. Riddle,” he greets in return. The man quirks an eyebrow up at Harry knowing his name but thankfully doesn’t say anything about it.

Harry recovers from his initial surprise and curtsies, careful to let the alpha see his unclaimed scent gland, and looks up at him under his lashes. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The alpha doesn’t reply instantly, but instead takes his time to look at Harry’s form with a smirk on his lips. Harry doesn’t dare breathe.

“I wanted to introduce myself to the omega who has everyone’s attention tonight.”

Harry hums. “Evidently not the one whose attention I want the most,” he says slyly, looking at where Luna was talking to her father.

“And who says his attention is not yours?” Tom asks, quirking an elegant eyebrow up.

“He’s got an omega with him, I’m afraid.”

“Any alpha who sees you will forget about any omega he’s with, I’m sure,”

“Will he?” Harry asks inkling his head to the side.

“He already has,” Tom says.

Suddenly, Harry remembers all the people who have tried to get close to him because he was a Potter. He stops. This was what Tom Riddle would want from him. His last name. His influence. Association with him meant gaining even more prominence than dating a Lovegood. 

What would Sirius say? What about the press? His dead parents say? That Harry would be the first to make the Potter line _impure_?

Harry shakes his head.

The next morning, news broke out that the promising Undersecretary Tom Riddle and the heiress Luna Lovegood broke up... the same time that the illustrious Harry Potter started dating the Bulgarian Quidditch player, Viktor Krum.

* * *

Tom Riddle was a genius. Tom Riddle was handsome. Charming. Brilliant.

Harry can’t count how many time he’s heard these words in the past year. Harry has never heard of so much fanfare from his fellow omegas about a muggleborn. Tom Riddle has been all they talked about since he became the Undersecretary of the Minister. The youngest ever.

“He’s still a muggleborn though,” Harry reminds them.

“Oh, Harry,” Blaise says. “But my dad adores him. All the pureblood do. I’d say they almost see him as their own.”

“Draco’s dad is respects him.” Daphne Greengrass says, nodding. “Why, if Draco were an omega, I’d say they’d already be engaged.”

“I absolutely wouldn’t mind,” Astoria agrees, giggling with her sister. “He can take my neck anytime he wants.”

Harry did not like that anyone in the room would throw away everything they had for Tom Riddle. Tom was a _mudblood._

And anyway, Harry wasn’t just anyone.

He was Harry Potter. Beloved socialite. Perfect omega. Pureblood.

* * *

It was no secret that Harry Potter was a Quidditch fanatic. He was always present in the Quidditch World Cup which only happened every six years, at the best seat in the house.

This year was different though. The Potter heir was here exclusively support his boyfriend, alpha Player of the Decade Viktor Krum. Harry was walking toward the Potter seat, dressed in a deep mahogany red, waving at his fans and some photographers when he suddenly sees someone very familiar.

“Tom?” Harry asks in disbelief.

“Mr. Potter,” Tom greets. 

“I did not know that you liked Quidditch.” Harry says in complete bewilderment.

“And why wouldn’t I?” Tom asks, one eyebrow up.

“Well… I just thought…” Harry stops. He just thought it was too… _banal_ for him. Like it was a waste of time. Harry surreptitiously tried to look around. Was he with a girlfriend? “How come I’ve never seen you before?” Harry asks suspiciously.

“Oh, you’ve probably never sat in the general admission area.”

Harry blushes. Of course he hasn’t. His father loved Quidditch and so did his Uncle Sirius. His seats were always the best. He’s never thought much of it before. But why did he suddenly feel ashamed? “And whose the poor rich omega have you fooled into letting you sit here this time?”

Tom’s eyebrow quirks even higher. “I am alone.”

Alone. Single. Tom was alone. And Harry was… was _not_ single but he could fix that in—

“I’m also alo—“

“Mr. Potter, are you here to support your boyfriend, Viktor?” A mic is shoved in front of his mouth. Reporters eagerly awaiting his answer.

Harry thinks fast. Would it be too much for Viktor to find out Harry broke up with him through national tv? Would he be mad? Would he tell the press he only found out the same day he did? Did Viktor deserve it? And what about his sweetheart image? Would it survive if Viktor decided to destroy him? Viktor was rather… immature. 

And… can Harry be like the other pureblood omegas? Just throw away generations of purity for an alpha? Was Harry just like everyone else?

Harry swallows. He makes a decision. He avoids looking at Tom.

“Yes,” he says, a smile on his face. “I’m here to support him.”

Harry risks a glance to where Tom was… but he was gone.

* * *

It was a banquet for people like him. For world leaders and heirs. For ancient families and people with royal blood. Worldwide influences that could easily alter reality with no more than a snap. Harry was with Germany’s First Son—Cedric Diggory. Such a handsome fellow with his blonde hair and warm brown eyes.

“Harry,” the First Son says gently, sun caught in his warm eyes. His words were gentle, proper, German accent not as thick as it should be.

But Harry didn’t like warm eyes. He liked cold blue eyes that were charming when they needed to be, teasing with Harry, and glittering dangerously with ambition.

But those were dangerous thoughts.

“Isn’t that Tom Riddle, love?” Cedric suddenly says beside him. Harry’s head whips so fast into where Cedric was looking that he heard a crack. 

_“Where?”_ Harry demands.

And suddenly Harry’s world stops.

There he was indeed. Head taller than anyone in the crowd. Black robes pressed to perfection. Wavy black hair carelessly resting on his forehead. And he was with the French and German ministers.

Harry frowns. How could that happen?

Tom didn’t hold too much power that he could talk to leaders of countries so casually… and yet.

“Why is he talking to your father?” Harry asks, tone sharp. Cedric looks at him.

“Are you alright, Harry?”

Harry blinks, almost frowning in impatience. The he realizes he’s the real Harry. Not dumb socialite Harry. 

“Oh yes,” he says sweetly. “I just wanted to talk to your dad.”

Cedric wraps an arm around his shoulders. Harry forces himself to smile. “What on earth would you talk to him about?”

Harry’s smile tightens. “The French Minister is close to my uncle. I must pay my respects.”

“Of course.” Cedric says. They make their way into the trio, Tom not even glancing in his direction. “Father,” Cedric greets his dad. 

Cedric’s dad turns to face them and so does the French Minister. Tom looks at Harry with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. Harry does not dare look at him.

“Ah, pardon me, this is my son and his omega girlfriend, Harry Potter.”

“Hello,” Harry curtsies, low and proper. There is silence before the French Minister recognizes him. 

“Mr. Potter!”

“Sir,” he blushes prettily.

“You have only grown more beautiful,” he says appreciatively. “You would do well with Mr. Riddle here who is as handsome as yourself—“ Rightly so. “But it is a pity he is already taken, are you not, my boy?”

Before Tom could answer, a vision of white suddenly appears beside Tom. 

Harry almost gasps. No. No. No. Anyone but _her_ —

“We must excuse ourselves,” The French Minister suddenly says apologetically, saving Harry form openly reacting. “Albus Dumbledore seeks our audience.” 

The ministers leave.

There is silence as they all take in each other. The most beautiful people in the room no doubt. People were already starting to look.

_“Harry,”_ Fleur Delacour purrs, clear blue eyes staring straight into his green. Her hand wraps itself around Tom’s arm, a chilling smile forms at her lips. “It is good to see you again,” She says, eyes gleaming, her sexy French accent thick.

Of course, Harry thinks. Of all the people Tom could be in a relationship with, it had to be Fleur Delacour, the only woman who Harry considered a rival since his first day in Beauxbatons. 

“Fleur,” Harry greets back, a smile on his face. Harry swears he sees her eyes flash as they shake their hands. “You have not changed.” 

It was a lie. And they both knew it.

Fleur has only become more radiant. She had a glow that only her Veela genes could give her. She has grown taller too, her aristocratic cheekbones ready to cut anyone who comes in her way.

“Ah, but I am not the one who is on Monsieur Cedric Diggory’s arms tonight, eh?” Harry’s smile freezes on his lips and he knows he does not imagine the smirk at the Veela’s face. She was right. She was not on Cedric’s arm. She was on Tom’s. They both knew who really was winning here.

Cedric laughs good-naturedly. “Mademoiselle Fleur, you are ever the flatterer. Your fiancee might get offended.” Finacee? Harry’s eyes whips to both their hands. And there it was. 

Rings. Engagement rings.

“Ah, Tom knows I am his through and through,” Fleur giggles as she tightens her hold on Tom, eyes never leaving Harry’s. Harry risks looking at Tom. But he was looking at Fleur only, charming indulging smile at his face. He looked happy.

Harry grabs Cedric by the hand. “We are both lucky then.” Harry says, feeling something in his body he does not like.

“Yes,” Fleur says slowly. “ _Very_ lucky.” Fleur agrees, turning to kiss Tom on the mouth.

* * *

_“Mr. Potter.”_

Harry stops gulping down the donuts he’d been eating. Merlin. “What the fuck?” He frowns at a smirking Tom Riddle.

“Language, my dear,” Tom says. Harry rolls his eyes. “Cedric and you have a fight?”

_Cedric?_ “How did you know?” Harry’s eyebrow raises up.

“Donuts aren’t the only thing you’ve eaten in abundance tonight.” Tom smiles at him, tone teasing.

“This figure stays the same no matter how many donuts I eat.” Harry says haughtily, stuffing another donut in his mouth. Harry looks around. "You and Fleur have a fight?”

“She’s helping her father do the final touches of his speech,” Tom says picking a grape from the dessert table. He puts it in his mouth, eyes never leaving Harry’s. The flash from his ring blinds Harry for a second.

“Shouldn’t you be helping your fiancee?"

“Fleur can take care of herself,” he dismisses. The casual trust Tom gives her makes Harry lose his appetite. Would Tom trust him like that? Does he know? Does he even know what Harry’s capable of underneath the socialite facade? Sure, Fleur graduated at the top their class. But did Tom know Harry could do so just as easily?

There’s silence before Tom speaks again.

“He’s not your type,” he says seriously.

Harry almost chokes. “Isn’t he?” Harry maintains eye contact, face unreadable. The first thing that came to Harry’s mind was ask Tom if Fleur was even really his type. He stops himself. Fleur was _anyone’s_ type. “Tell me, Undersecretary, what exactly _is_ my type?”

Tom suddenly flashes him a sharp grin and somehow Harry finds himself regretting asking the question. “Obviously, he’d be tall.” Tom says. “Dark haired, of course.”

“Of course,” Harry says sarcastically, fighting the urge to roll his eyes again.

“A person who runs in the same circle as you.” The Tom’s eyes gleam. “Someone you’d recognize as your equal at once. Charming. Charismatic. Exactly like you.”

“Indeed.” Harry nods solemnly. “And I suppose you’ve got a specific person in mind?”

“Oh, you know him very well.”

Harry’s eyebrow shoots up in the air. “And I suppose you know him as well.”

“Of course,” Tom says smugly.

Harry’s heart beats fast in his chest. Was this it? Was Tom finally going to acknowledge the tension between them?

_“Neville Longbottom.”_ Tom says slyly, eyes gleaming under the ballroom lights.

* * *

Fleur Delacour did not like Harry Potter.

Fleur always wondered how no one could see the facade he put on for other people. He pretended to be dumb for fun, reveled a little too much into his inheritance, and did not care about being responsible.

Perhaps she should have pitted the boy for not having parents to guide him into becoming a proper omega. He was a mischief and yet everybody loved him. Not even the teachers had the heart to reprimand him in Bauxbatons.

But Fleur? Fleur had to watch her every move, study hard, and made sure she never slipped. It was the price she payed for being born into the Delacours. It was what they expected of her, what _everyone_ expected from her. The responsibility she carried has been heavy since the beginning. And Harry mocked it everyday.

Fleur watches as Harry talks with her fiancee.

He was frowning, rolling his eyes even. His guard was down, unafraid to show his real emotions to Tom. He was talking loud too, animatedly—a side he only showed to his Weasley best friend. He looks annoyed yet also secretly amused.

To a casual onlooker, Tom would seem as though he was being his natural charming self. But he too had his guard down. Tom was trying not laugh but his eyes clearly were.

Fleur Delacour did not like Harry Potter.

Pity she couldn’t say the same about her fiancee.

* * *

** _Present_ **

“Mr. Potter,” the alpha greets, voice deep and rich, just as deliciously suggestive as Harry remembered. He curtsies, carefully tilting his head to the side, so the alpha could see his scent gland.

“Mr. Riddle,” he purrs. He rises innocently, as if he did not just try to outrightly seduce the alpha with his scent.

Tom looks at his subtle green clothes and smirks. “You look good.”

“So do you, Tom."

“How was France?,” Tom asks, taking his hand and kissing it slowly. The heat from the kiss makes Harry’s breath hitch. 

It takes a while for him to recover and he smiles. “I’m gone for a little while and suddenly, you run for Minister?” Harry teases.

“Ah, that is nothing compared to breaking my heart,” Tom says, a smirk at his lips.

Tom was talking about Harry breaking off another engagement with a French viscount.

Giddy—only Tom Riddle could make Harry giddy, making Harry smile so wide from the feeling in his stomach. “Don’t think news of your dallies did not reach France, Mr. Riddle.” He responds prettily. Harry looks at Tom’s hand, where his engagement ring used to be. The engagement was called off for “unknown reasons”—as Harry recalls from the Daily Prophet.

Harry cannot forget or explain the relief he felt when the news broke out.

They both look at each other, eyes gleaming under the lights. The blunt flirting has always been present since they first met five years ago.

“Careful now, Minister,” Harry says with a teasing smile. “People might think we’re in love.”

“And what if they do?” Tom replies coolly.

Harry raises an eyebrow. 

Was this it? Was this finally their chance? They were both finally single, at the same time. Tom will become Minister. And Harry has finally inherited his Potter inheritance.

There was nothing stopping them now. They were playing on equal fields. Their potentials already both realized.

They hold power that is equal.

It was Harry’s turn to speak now. Tom was giving him a choice.

“Marry me,” Harry says breathlessly.

How long have they been playing this game? How long was Harry going to watch as Tom dated countless heiresses and omegas when he could have a Potter heir? _The_ Potter heir?

“I’m not going to sit idly by waiting to catch you between girlfriends, Tom, I—“ Harry widens his eyes as he realizes he’s blabbering and when he sees the look on Tom’s face.

Wasn’t Harry the one who always had doubts about being with Tom? What right did he have to be speaking so carelessly?

His heart fell. 

“I–I’m sorry–“ Harry stutters. “I didn’t know what came over me,” Harry says looking down, cheeks red. He has never been this outspoken before, never been this blunt. But Tom always did things to him. “Please,” he pleads. “Forget everything I said—“

Tom steps forward, the action so quick that Harry gasps as Tom is suddenly too close for comfort. 

“You think I’ll let you go back on that that easily?” Tom says darkly, and suddenly Harry was afraid. 

A cruel deep laugh escaped Tom’s lips, but nothing prepared Harry for what he would say next. 

“You’re mine now,” he growls, placing his hand on Harry’s back and pulling him flush against Tom’s body. Harry’s heart beats faster. “I’ll mark you now if I have to,” Tom says. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bite you here,” Tom’s finger grazes on Harry’s scent gland and he shivers at thebrief contact, feeling slick gather between his legs at the declaration.

“T—Tom,” he stutters, suddenly feeling very dizzy. Without really realizing, Harry leans into Tom, face just centimeters away from the alpha, Harry’s eyes glazed and mind numb with Tom’s proximity to him.

“Stop baring your neck to me,” Tom orders, voice deep and commanding which only made Harry want to submit, tilting his neck even further. “So submissive tonight, aren’t you, love?” Tom growls lightly into his ear.

Harry shivers as his knees buckle at Tom’s authority. “Answer me,” he demands.

“I—Tom—please,” he begs. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. Just knows he needed Tom closer to him, needed that scent to fill his lungs, wanted his alpha’s praise, his attention, his everything.

“Behave,” Tom purrs in his ear. Harry nods as he swallows, obeying the alpha. Tom smirks and Harry almost purrs at making the alpha proud. “I will court you for a week,” the alpha whispers in his ear. “

Harry feels his lips graze on his neck and his breath hitches in his throat. Tom chuckles.

“And then I wait no longer.” Tom promises darkly.

Harry nods, weak, unable to wait any longer as well.

* * *

Hermione watches the alpha and the omega. They were too close to each other for it be called proper. They looked too intimate that Hermione felt as if she should look away. 

But how could she? This was history being made. This was probably a marriage in the making.

Hermione knew countless alphas has passed through Harry’s hands and Hermione has watched all the omegas Tom brought into the ministry.

But none of those had the same fire as these two. The chemistry was undeniable. And everyone noticed. They were all looking at the couple, whispering to each other.

It was _almost_ a scandal.

But by how long they’ve both teased and waited for each other, Hermione had a feeling they’d already be married in a week.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm. Hmmm. HMMMMMM. What? What do you think? WHAT??? TELL ME!!!!!!
> 
> PS. Pray the next fic I can finish in a week. Please.


End file.
